


Happiness Is ...

by jdjunkie



Category: Stargate SG-1
Genre: Established Relationship, M/M, Post Series, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-16
Updated: 2013-02-16
Packaged: 2017-11-29 11:47:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,985
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/686624
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jdjunkie/pseuds/jdjunkie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Nothing to do, nowhere to go and a taste of happy-ever-after.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Happiness Is ...

Happiness is ... having nothing to do, nowhere to go and a naked Daniel lounging on top of the bedclothes reading a dusty journal on a dustier subject.

Jack smiles and makes a mental note to write down his latest “happiness is” homily and attach it to the fridge door with his Homer magnet. Daniel has never once remarked on Jack’s penchant for plastering soppy bon mots around the kitchen. Jack thinks he kind of likes them because Daniel seems to like everything about living with Jack. They’re currently in a rented home in coastal Maine, where there’s fishing for Jack and relatively easy access to New York’s museums and lectures for Daniel when the tall tales of the one that got away become too much. Minnesota is the end game. That’s the plan.

Actually, Daniel seems to like everything about living with Jack except for Jack’s regimented underwear drawer. Daniel shakes his head at that. Jack can’t see what’s wrong with lining up his boxers and socks with precision. It’s tidy and ordered and organized. Pretty much all those things Daniel isn’t.

Turning his attention back to the Sunday crossword, Jack slides his leg across the mattress and nudges Daniel’s bare leg from under the warm cocoon of the bedclothes. Daniel studiously ignores him, so Jack does it again, a little harder this time.

“What?” Daniel sighs. He knows perfectly well what.

“It’s your turn,” Jack says, carefully penciling in the answer to seven down.

The sigh from beside him is epic in its intensity.

“But I’m only halfway through this article on the latest Akkadian text excavations. It’s a vast corpus of mythology, legal and scientific texts and correspondence. I wish I’d studied Akkadian more closely back in the day. There was never enough time. So many of the symbols had multiple pronuniciations. Then, of course, the language developed into Assyrian and Babylonian variants.”

Jack sucks on the end of his pencil. “Of course.”

“This new work is fascinating.”

“I’m sensing orgasmic,” Jack says. Damn. Four down isn’t retrograde after all. He rubs it out.

Daniel lowers his book and clasps his hands together carefully. “I like to keep up with what’s going on. I’m retired. Not dead.”

“So, if you’re not dead, get up and make the coffee. Like I said ... your turn.”

“You’re annoying, you know that?”

Jack grins a grin he hopes is as smug as he feels.

Daniel places his book on the bedside table and heads off to the kitchen as naked as the day he was born. Jack loves that Daniel is comfortable enough in his own skin to walk around their home, _their_ home – he says the word in his head again just for the love of hearing it – so unselfconsciously. Jack feels the need to cover up these days. A slight pang of regret goes thorough him when he thinks of the combat-ready body he once had. It’s fought too many battles over the years. Its latest fight is with encroaching middle-aged spread. He’s carrying some extra pounds. Daniel says he likes that. Jack wants to believe him so decides he will.

Happiness is ... watching your husband enjoy holding onto your love handles.

Minutes later, Daniel returns with two steaming mugs of coffee and a plate of mini-Danishes. He hands Jack a mug and puts the plate on the bed between them. Jack eyes the pastries with suspicion.

“You trying to make me pile on the pounds?” He knows he’ll give in. He never could resist pecan and maple syrup.

“Damn. Busted. I love the extra padding. More to hold onto.” Daniel leans across, licks his lips in a hilariously porny way and plants a big wet kiss on Jack’s lips. “More to love,” he adds, he eyes twinkling.

Jack gives him a disbelieving look that he hopes hides the sappiness he feels inside when Daniel uses the L word. Daniel doesn’t say it often and when he does it’s frequently cloaked in humor or sarcasm. But Jack knows Daniel cherishes words and their meanings. He is honest in his word choice; he just can’t handle the emotion that goes with those words sometimes. Luckily, Jack reads Daniel as well as Daniel reads that stuff about Akkadian symbology.

The siren song of the pecan Danish draws Jack onto the rocks and he takes a bite. It’s sweet and delicious.

Happiness is ... a pastry that is as tasty as your lover.

Daniel settles back into his previous position, propped up against the headboard, mug in one hand, journal in the other, ignoring the plate of goodies.

Jack licks his fingers. That pastry vanished way too quickly. It was really quite small and hence must have contained very few calories. He can afford to snag the apricot one, too. So he does. As he chews, his mind wanders from the Sunday crossword to the time he asked for Daniel’s help with a crossword  before he went Ancient. Some ridiculous bet he had going with Carter. Happy days.

“Do you miss it?” Jack asks, sipping his coffee delicately. It’s strong and hot. Kind of like Daniel. Perfect.

“Miss what?” Daniel asks the question but he’s distracted by the academic journal, which reinforces Jack’s belief that the answer is a no brainer.

“Work. Archaeology. The SGC. Any or all of it.”

Daniel tilts his head, thinking. “Not really. I miss the people.”

Jack nods. He understands that. His former team and those who surrounded it were brought together by chance but stayed friends through choice. They became the family of his heart, if you will.

“How about you?” Jack feels Daniel’s gaze on him. He knows Daniel thinks Jack lost a part of himself when he parted company with the military. Jack’s having a hard time convincing him he’s gained far more than he’s lost.

“Actually, I miss it far less than I thought I would.” It’s true and it’s as much a revelation to him as it will be for Daniel.

“You have, however, made up for any loss by turning your sock drawer into a militarized zone.” Daniel chuckles.

“Fie,” Jack says, dismissively. He’s quiet for a moment, then adds, “I miss the people sometimes.”

“There are some people I _don’t_ miss,” Daniel offers, taking a big sip of coffee.

“Let you into a secret,” Jack says, deciding to ignore the lure of a third Danish. “Sometimes when we were in boring briefings ...” Daniel flashes him a stern look. “Not ... your briefings, obviously ...” Daniel doesn’t look convinced. “I used to imagine what people’s sex faces were like. It pierced the pomposity and overcame the boredom in one fell swoop.”

Daniel fixes him with a disbelieving stare and blinks.  “You did what?”

“Sex faces. You know, tried to picture that person the moment they ...”

“Yes, yes, I get that. I just can’t believe you ... _Hammond?”_

“Never George. There are limits.”

“Well, that’s something. Kinsey, though?”

“Kinsey’s never had an orgasm.  He’s not a human life form.”

Daniel considers this for a moment. “Okay, I get why you might do this with the likes of Samuels and Woolsey. But ... tell me you didn’t do this with our _friends_?”

Jack shuffles uncomfortably. “Some of those briefings were really boring, Daniel.”

Daniel affects disgust, then purses his lips. “Teal’c’s sex face would be scary.”

Jack nods vigorously.  

“Aztec death mask scary,” Daniel posits.

Jack nods again.

“Sam ...”

“Dimples,” Jack interjects.

They both take that no further.

“We’re bad,” Daniel says, with no hint of apology whatsoever.

“Evil.”

“Goa’uld levels.”

“Worse.”

They sit in silence, sipping cooling coffee, with Jack studiously ignoring the plate of goodies.

“I like your sex face a lot,” Jack says, eventually.

“Is it how you imagined it would be, back in the boring briefings that were never my briefings?”

Jack flexes his toes under the covers and peers into the depths of his mug.

“Jack?”

Jack studies the cotton sheets closely. Fascinating.

_“Jack?”_

“I never did,” he says in a rush, embarrassed. “Couldn’t actually. I never allowed myself to go there.”

“Ahhh. Afraid of the spontaneous orgasm at the briefing table. Understandable.” Daniel’s tone is equal parts reasonable and mocking.

Any minute now, Jack thinks, he’ll realize that Jack’s actually being serious. That he’s digging himself into a massive hole here. It happens sometimes when he talks to Daniel about stuff. It creeps up on him unawares and before he knows it, he’s doing the whole emotional unburdening thing, even though he doesn’t particularly want to. This appears to be one of those times. “Afraid I wanted to see it too much,” Jack sighs. “Too afraid that I never would. I loved you for a long time, Daniel. Never thought we’d get here. Didn’t dare to dream, let alone daydream.”

Daniel puts down his mug and journal and moves the plate of pastries onto the floor. The bed dips as he scooches down beside Jack and turns on his side. Jack risks a sideways glance and finds clear blue eyes gazing steadily at him.

“I hate that you couldn’t fantasize,” Daniel says, quietly, reaching out a hand and running his fingers through Jack’s chest hair. “Before there was an us. I hate that you were so lonely.”

Jack flinches. Daniel always meets the truth head on. Jack prefers to duck and weave. “There’s always been an ‘us,’ Daniel.  We just waited too damned long to turn it into this kind of ‘us’”. It’s an old gripe and Jack knows Daniel’s at peace with it. He isn’t. He hates the wasted time. Maybe that’s down to the years on his clock.

Daniel’s fingers swirl and caress. Jack loves that. He loves to be touched by Daniel.

“I used to fantasize about being touched by you,” Daniel says. “I used to imagine that one of those Jack O’Neill hugs would turn into something more. You’d be holding me and suddenly realize that you wanted more and you took it. It was kind of porn movie hot.”

Jack smiles. “Sounds like perfect masturbation fodder. My work here is done.”

 “It wasn’t always sexual, certainly not in the beginning. I loved it when you used to touch me, back when touching meant shoulder slaps and back pats. Meant a lot. I hated it when you didn’t touch me anymore.”

Jack flinches again. “Yes, well. Let’s not dwell. I was an asshole for a long time. This, we’ve established.”

Daniel leans in and rests his forehead against the side of Jack’s head, nuzzling softly. “Sorry. Old ground. I never mean to turn these conversations into reality TV unburdenings.”

“You do seem to bring out the confessor in me.”

Daniel kisses him and Jack can feel the smile behind the kiss.

“I don’t think I ever thought about your sex face, not consciously,” Daniel offers, still nuzzling, steering the conversation away from the difficult things.

“I’m glad. I’m sure it’s highly embarrassing.”

“It’s not. It’s ... unguarded, honest. And you do this cute thing with your tongue. It’s hot.”

“Sex faces aren’t hot, Daniel. They’re funny.”

Daniel appears affronted, “I look funny when I come?”

“Actually, you are the exception that proves the rule.” His voice and eyes soft, he adds, “You look amazing.” And then it’s Jack’s turn to do the kissing, and it’s long and slow and so, so sweet. He can feel the familiar initial stirrings of want deep inside, and when Daniel’s breath hitches, he knows Daniel’s getting there, too.

Reluctantly, they break apart and Jack kind of hates that he’s thinking about snagging that third Danish, just to provide fuel for the upcoming fire.

But when Daniel says, “Wanna see my amazing sex face now?” Jack finds he’s hungry for something else entirely.

As they twine and touch and begin to enjoy the comforting familiarity of each other’s bodies, Jack mentally pens another note for the fridge door.

Happiness is ... life with Daniel Jackson.

Daniel will love that one.

ends


End file.
